


... but the Devil's Work is Never Done

by almostannette



Series: The Pledge AU [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, First Time, Foster Care, Insults, M/M, Rimming, Scars, Spanking, Threesomes, Underage - Freeform, Unsafe Sex, Violence, dub-con, possibly the most fucked up thing i've written in a long time, this is just a really messed up prequel for God Slept on a Sunday, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:32:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15735942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostannette/pseuds/almostannette
Summary: Credence.A thin and frightened young thing, not quite seventeen. Wide brown eyes, plush lips and, sharp cheekbones. Raised by an abusive mother, beaten and insulted for all his life.‘Broken beyond repair,’ Henry thought when he first read the file he’d been given. ‘No. Not yet. Not until I’m done with him.’





	... but the Devil's Work is Never Done

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/gifts), [Binary_Sunset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Binary_Sunset/gifts).



> This is a prequel for my gradence fanfic "God Slept on a Sunday" - it deals with how Credence came to live with Henry Shaw Jr. in the first place and how their relationship started. It's quite possibly also the darkest fic I've written in a long time. **Please heed the tags!**
> 
> Dedicated to my two wonderful enablers!
> 
> This fic is currently unbeta'd - all mistakes are mine.

_Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine._ \- Patti Smith

* * *

When Henry Shaw Jr. first lays eyes on his newest foster son, something primal awakens in his chest.

Credence.

A thin and frightened young thing, not quite seventeen. Wide brown eyes, plush lips and, sharp cheekbones. Raised by an abusive mother, beaten and insulted for all his life.

‘Broken beyond repair,’ he thought when he first read the file he’d been given. ‘No. Not yet. Not until I’m done with him.’

* * *

Credence has been living with his new foster family for a few weeks. He’s settled in well, given the circumstances. His foster family seems nice if a little distant. Still, it’s a lot more than he could expect from his biological mother.

He gets along well enough with his foster mother, Carol, and the three young children - twin girls Alice and Victoria, five years old, and their little brother, Philipp, who’s two.

Well, he lied. He doesn’t get along with everyone. There’s his foster father…

Henry Shaw Jr. Even though he’s only thirty-six years old, his hair is already starting to go gray, but Credence has caught himself thinking that it only makes him look more dignified.

No matter how often Credence tries to nip thoughts like that in the bud, he can’t help but think that Henry is _hot_.

Henry also doesn’t like Credence.

He never said so outright, but Credence can feel it in the way Henry’s dark-brown eyes follow his every move when they’re in the same room together, and how there’s always a slight frown of disapproval playing around his mouth when he sees Credence, who’s failing to meet some standard he doesn’t even know about.

Credence desperately wants Henry to like him.

* * *

The tension has been building ever since Credence moved in.

Henry’s been watching Credence, savoring every uncertain look in his direction, observing Credence’s simple and naked want to be liked.

He decides to fan that desire like a flame, make it burn brighter and hotter with every morsel of affection he bestows upon the boy who’s so hungry for praise and attention. Once, he asked Credence to help him with a menial task, something to do with sorting files he brought home from the office. “I’m very pleased with you, Credence,” he said when Credence was done and the boy’s face had lit up like a Christmas tree.

It was intoxicating.

It all comes to a head one day when Carol is out with the kids on some errand. Henry’s sure she told him what it was, but he forgot. He’s used to tuning out her voice when she speaks with that nagging, accusatory tone that gets his heartbeat to quicken and his fists to clench.

For the first time ever since Credence moved in with them, Henry has the boy all to himself.

Credence is watching TV in the living room, some cartoon Henry doesn’t care for. He reaches for the remote control and switches off the TV.

Credence looks at him with wide eyes, seemingly frozen to the spot and dumb-struck. A deer in the headlight, Henry’s mind supplies. Waiting for punishment.

He likes that look on Credence’s face much more than he should.

“Credence, we hardly ever had an opportunity to talk,” he says, sitting down on the sofa next to him.

The boy reacts by trying to curl into a ball, wrapping his arms around his shins, until he realizes that he doesn’t have to resort to such coping mechanisms anymore. He’s no longer living with his mother. Shoulders hunched and head bowed, Credence glances at Henry from underneath uneven bangs. “W-what do you want to talk about?” he asks.

“I want to know whether you’re settling in alright,” Henry says, suppressing the urge to put a hand on Credence’s knee. Slow, he tells himself, steady. You might spook him if you move too fast. “If there’s anything you need… you can always talk to me, you know that?”

Credence sucks in a breath of air and worries his front teeth over his bottom lip until his mouth is cherry-red, begging to be kissed… The boy has no way of knowing that when Henry fucked Carol last night, he’d come when he’d imagined it was Credence’s body clenching around his cock, not his wife’s.

“Do you… why don’t you like me? What am I doing wrong?” Credence asks, finally lifting his head to look at Henry, holding his gaze with difficulties.

Henry bites the inside of his cheek so he won’t laugh out loud. Where has this boy been all his life? “You’re not doing anything wrong,” he says. “And what gave you the idea that I didn’t like you?”

“It’s stupid,” Credence mumbles and drops his gaze.

“Tell me anyway.”

“You… I always see you looking at me like you’re judging me. And I… I think I’m following all the rules, so I don’t know what it is that I’m doing that makes you… I want you to like me,” he confesses in a whisper.

“No, Credence, that’s a misunderstanding. Do you want to know why I’m always looking at you?” he asks, now reaching out and letting his hand rest on Credence’s knee. “It’s not because I don’t like you. In fact, I probably like you too much.”

It takes Credence a second to get the gist. Once he does, his pupils dilate and he feverishly licks his lips until they’re wet, shining and still so red, once again beckoning Henry to make a move. He’s been strong, Henry thinks, he resisted his desires and denied himself release for so long.

He leans forward and lets himself get a taste of Credence’s inviting mouth.

One kiss, he tells himself. One kiss, then he’ll pull away.

Credence has other ideas. He moans against Henry’s lips, shifts until he’s straddling him and slips his tongue inside Henry’s mouth.

Credence must have done this before, the boy is neither as clumsy nor as shy as he would have thought. If he didn’t know that the little minx currently squirming in his lap is supposed to be a repressed church boy…

Henry pulls away and leans back to be able to look into Credence’s face. “You like being touched, don’t you? Yeah, you like it,” he says, cupping Credence’s rather prominent bulge. “And I have the feeling I’m not the first one to touch you like that.”

Credence shakes his head, rocking his hips against the touch of Henry’s hand, letting out a high-pitched whine, needy little thing that he is.

Henry hates the fact that he won’t be Credence’s first everything, that someone else has touched what Henry plans on claiming for his own.

“Who was it?” Henry asks. It ends up sounding more like a growl than anything else and makes Credence shake against him. “Who touched you? Tell me.”

Credence leans closer to Henry, nuzzling his face against the junction of Henry’s neck and shoulder. “Bible camp,” Credence whispers. “There was this one counselor when I was fifteen,” he says. “He… he had a few boys… but I was his favorite. He did things to me.”

“Is that so?” Henry asks, sliding one of his hands under Credence’s chin and making him look into his eyes. “What did he do to you? What things?”

“You know what things,” Credence whispers.

He grins. “I can guess,” he says, swiping his thumb over Credence’s bottom lip. Enraptured, he watches how Credence doesn’t resist when he presses the digit between his lips, and obediently sucks on his finger. “Different question: Do you want me to do those things to you?”

Credence nods hesitantly, releasing Henry’s thumb from his mouth. “Please,” he says. “You can… you can even do more than he did, I wouldn’t… ”

“You wouldn’t what now?” Henry enjoys teasing the boy. He makes him spell out his secret fantasies, describing in minute detail how Credence wants Henry to fuck him until the boy is shaking with need.

Then, Henry decides to destroy that dream, at least for now. He runs his hand through Credence’s hair, the awful haircut his mother had given to him only now starting to grow out. He ruffles his hair into something a bit more becoming. Leaning in and giving Credence a chaste, close-mouthed peck on the lips, he gently pushes the boy away when he wants to deepen the kiss. “We can’t,” he says. “You’re too clever not to know that.”

“Uh… but we’re… right now… ” Credence stammers, brain and body still caught up in a haze of lust. He moves off Henry’s lap, looking confused.

“Credence, you know that we can’t,” he says. “It would be… I’m married and you’re my foster child… this,” he pauses and gestures to the space between their bodies. “It was a mistake, alright? It would be best if we forgot all about it.”

Credence nods timidly, arousal and chagrin written all over his face.

One thing is clear - neither Henry nor Credence is going to forget the encounter. And Henry is going to enjoy it when Credence comes crawling back to him, demanding that they pick up where they left off.

* * *

_Of course_ , Henry was right. Nothing could happen between them, not now, not ever. All of Henry’s arguments were valid, he was a married man, twice as old as Credence, and he was the mayor of this town. What if somebody found out he was fooling around with his foster son?

Credence understands all of that, he really does.

Still, he can’t stop thinking about the kiss.

He _liked_ it.

He’s lost count of the times he woke up after his mind replayed the scenario in a dream. Only in his dreams Henry doesn’t stop to consider their respective situations, he doesn’t think, he just _takes_ and makes Credence his.

They’re the best dreams he’s had in a very long time.

Ever since that damned, blissful afternoon, Henry hasn’t laid a single finger on Credence and has made sure not to be alone with Credence in a room. But, more than ever before, Credence feels Henry watch his every move and when their eyes meet, there’s a heat in his foster father’s gaze that Credence fears would scorch him to his bones if it ever got unleashed.

It excites him.

Credence decides to turn it into a game. If Henry isn’t going to touch him, even though Credence wants him to, then he’s going to show him exactly what he’s missing out on. It’s on Henry, he rationalizes. He’s the one who’s married and made a vow to be faithful. Credence is just… providing an opportunity to test that vow.

It’s still wrong to desire his foster father, to lead him on, to want his resolve to crumble. Ma would say he’s wicked and weak, giving in to sinful desires like that. Perhaps she’s right. But why, then, has Credence never felt more powerful than when Henry confessed in a husky voice that he liked him too much? Now, Ma isn’t there to discipline him, to beat the realization that his behavior is wrong into his skin. Credence knows what he wants and for the first time in his life, he’ll work to get it.

It’s Sunday afternoon. Henry and Carol are hosting a barbecue. Many people of their church community are in attendance; adults are chatting with each other about this or that, children are running around, playing games, completely carefree in a way Credence never was when he was their age.

Credence walks up to Henry and Carol, telling them that he needs to retire for a little while since he feels a little sunstruck. He catches Henry’s eyes for a second, giving him a meaningful look. Henry gets the hint, that much is clear from the way his jaw clenches and desire flickers in his eyes.

Credence turns away and walks toward the house. How long is he going to have to wait until Henry comes after him? Five minutes, he thinks. Tops.

Credence decides to wait in the kitchen. The windows don’t face into the yard and if anyone went into the house to go to the bathroom, they wouldn’t be able to look into the room.

He gets himself a glass of water to pass the time, taking slow sips while he’s counting down the seconds.

He doesn’t have to wait long until he hears someone entering the kitchen behind him.

“Credence?” Henry asks. “Are you feeling better?”

Not fighting a small smile, Credence turns around. “Much better,” he says.

His foster father snorts, closing the distance between them with a few measured steps. “You little… ” Henry mumbles. He brings their mouths together in a searing kiss. Being this close, he can smell Henry’s cologne. He finds it intoxicating. But before he can lose himself in the kiss and bring Henry closer, they hear the pitter-patter of footsteps approaching.

They break apart, trying to straighten their clothes and act natural.

“Daddy, I scraped my knee!” Alice cries, running into the kitchen. Sure enough, her left knee is bloody.

Henry soothes her, squatting down to give her a kiss on the forehead. “Hush, princess, we’ll get you fixed in no time.” Standing back up, he takes his daughter by the hand and leaves the kitchen, but not after sparing one intense look of longing back at Credence.

He swallows and turns back to the sink, touching his lips with shaking fingers. What has he gotten himself into?

* * *

“It doesn’t look very fancy or special, does it?” Credence asks. The boy even has the audacity to pout.

Henry suppresses his annoyance. He just pulled into a parking space next to a run-down motel after they’ve driven for over an hour. “We’re not here because it’s fancy,” he says, reaching over to lay his hand on Credence’s upper thigh. “We’re here because they’re not going to ask questions when I get us a room. We never have enough time at home. I thought for our first time together, we should at least have a bed and as much time as we want.”

“Okay,” Credence whispers. He glances at the motel one more time. “How can you be sure that they’re not going to ask questions?”

“I’ve done much more questionable things there,” Henry says with a self-assured smirk that he knows is going to make Credence’s imagination go haywire. “But those are stories for another time.”

Henry books the room, paying much more than necessary to ensure the owner’s silence and starts pulling Credence after him to their room. He told Carol he wanted to spend a day with Credence alone, wanting to give the boy a positive bonding experience. She hadn’t been the slightest bit suspicious. Credence was in need of a stable father figure, she’d said, the poor boy had never had one before. Henry had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing out loud.

After weeks of stolen kisses, quick handjobs, and the odd blowjob when they found the time, Henry wanted more. He needed to have Credence fully.

Henry ushers Credence into the room, slams the door shut and locks it from the inside. He doesn’t want any disturbances.

Credence barely has the time to take off his jacket and his shoes, when Henry is already pushing him down onto the bed. He kisses him long and hard, moving on to lightly scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin of Credence’s neck. It’s a shame he can’t leave any marks. He wants the world to see that Credence is spoken for, that he belongs to Henry and _only_ to Henry.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he says. Henry urges the boy to get up again. He directs him to stand at the foot of the bed, while Henry himself leans against the headboard. “Take your clothes off for me.”

It’s moments like this in which Henry’s gratitude for Mary Lou Barebone knows no bounds. She raised a beautiful son, disciplined him until he became wonderfully obedient, and deprived him of affection for long enough that he’ll do anything to get it. She broke him just enough to make him perfect for Henry.

Shedding his clothes one by one, Credence reveals pale skin, slender hips and, long legs. “Come here,” Henry says. “Show me how much you want me.”

Fully naked, Credence rejoins Henry on the bed. For all the seductive bravado the boy displayed in the weeks leading up to his moment, he is now shy and hesitant. Henry knows why. This is something the camp counselor didn’t take from Credence. No, this is something he can give to Henry.

He hands Credence a bottle of lube. “Have you been practicing, like I told you to?”

Credence bites his lips and nods.

“Show me.”

Fascinated, he watches as Credence fingers himself open for him, for his _foster father_.

“Good boy. Add another finger.”

Every hitch in Credence’s breathing, every moan he bites back makes Henry harder. He unzips his pants and lazily starts stroking himself.

“You’re doing so well,” he tells Credence, who’s fucking himself on his own fingers. It’s not enough, Henry can tell. Credence is going to need more than a few fingers inside of him. During all of it, Credence doesn’t touch his own cock. Good. The boy’s got his priorities in check.

After what feels like an eternity - he wanted to make sure the boy did an adequate job of preparing himself - Henry finally lines himself up and starts sinking into the tight, tight heat of Credence’s body. The boy feels glorious, better than anyone he’s had in a long time.

Henry bottoms out and notices the tears in Credence’s eyes. He wipes them away, pressing a kiss to Credence’s mouth. “You can take it, can’t you? I know you can.”

Credence nods frantically and gasps when Henry pulls out a little, only to slam right back home.

“You’re doing so well, Credence,” he says. “I’m proud of you, do you hear that? Say it.”

Credence squeezes his eyes shut, squirming under him. “D-daddy’s proud of me,” he pants.

“Minx,” he says and starts moving in earnest, pulling sounds out of Credence which are blurring the line between pleasure and pain.

After Henry has had his way with Credence a couple more times, he’s lying next to the boy on the bed and admires his work. “How do you feel?”

“I feel… kinda dirty,” Credence rasps. Henry can’t argue with that. The boy is sweaty, his mouth looks positively ruined and his abused hole is leaking cum onto the sheets.

“Hush,” he says, putting a finger to Credence’s lips. “I don’t want you to say things like that about yourself.” He gathers the boy in his arms; his body still frail from years and years of being underfed. Two months with a good foster family aren’t enough to change that. “What we did… you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. You were so good, Credence. You were doing so well. I meant it when I said that I was proud of you.” He peppers Credence’s face with kisses, tasting the salt of the tears the boy shed during the act. “Now, tell me. Do you have anything to be ashamed of?”

“No, daddy,” Credence whispers against Henry’s skin.

He likes it when Credence uses that moniker, Henry decides. He likes it a whole lot.

* * *

“I… this isn’t the right way,” Credence points out. They were supposed to be driving to the motel, but Henry had taken a completely wrong turn not five minutes after they left home.

“We’re not going to the motel. A friend of mine is going to join us tonight,” Henry says. “We’re going to his place.”

Credence swallows against the lump that’s forming in his throat. “A friend of yours?” he asks.

“That’s alright with you, isn’t it?”

He wants to shake his head, say no, it’s not alright, Henry should have asked him… but then Henry looks at him, repeating the question in a more severe tone, and Credence finds himself nodding.

“Good,” Henry says with a smile. “You’re wearing the underwear I gave you?”

“Yes,” Credence says.

“Show me.”

He lifts his T-shirt, revealing the black lace garter belt that’s hugging his waist. Credence doesn’t know if he likes it, yet. It’s making him feel a little strange, if he’s being honest with himself, a little too grown-up and too sexy. But that’s stupid. He’s having an affair with a man twice his age, a little bit of fabric shouldn’t make him feel squeamish.

“Perfect. Gellert is going to love it.”

“Is that the man who’s joining us?”

Henry confirms it. “You might know him already. He’s the chief of police and he’s been at a few events we hosted at home. You’ll know him when you see him.”

“The chief of police?” Credence bites his tongue, wanting to make a joke about handcuffs.

Henry shrugs. “It’s good to have friends on the force. It can get you out of a whole lot of trouble.”

“Like statutory rape charges,” Credence mutters under his breath, but still loud enough for Henry to hear it.

“You should watch your mouth,” he snaps, but his expression softens only a second later. “But yes, you’re right, it can help to avoid those. Among other things.”

It takes Credence a while to figure out that Gellert must have done Henry a favor, and that sharing Credence with him for a night was Henry’s way of saying thank you.

Henry pulls into the driveway of a large house. “We’re here.”

Credence knows the man who greets them at the door and ushers them into the house by sight, but he never talked to him before. Gellert is a little older than Henry, a bit taller, and much more intimidating. Is it too late to back out now?

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Credence,” Gellert says.

Credence smiles awkwardly, not knowing what to say in response.

“A timid one you’ve got there, Henry,” he says. “Luckily, I know how to fix that. It’s good stuff, I confiscated it myself. Do _you_ want anything in the meantime?”

“I’ll take a Bud,” Henry says.

Gellert grimaces. “That’s not beer, that’s yellow-colored water.”

“You Germans are too easy to rile up,” Henry chuckles. “I wouldn’t dare drink _American_ beer in _your_ house. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Gellert says he decanted a nice Chianti, which Credence learns means that he poured red wine into a funny-looking pitcher without handles. Two glasses and the pitcher in his hand, Gellert starts leading them to his bedroom - it’s a strange parade. Gellert in the front, Credence in the middle, Henry at the back, nudging him forward if Credence hesitates to follow Gellert’s lead.

The closer they get to the bedroom, the faster his heart starts to beat. When they pass a mirror that’s hanging in the hallway, Credence glances at his own reflection and notices he’s much paler than usual.

Gellert’s bedroom looks shockingly mundane in comparison to what Credence’s imagination conjured up. As far as furniture goes, there’s just the usual: a large bed, a dresser, a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf full of titles in another language Credence can’t read. From Gellert’s demeanor, Credence would have expected a bit more grandeur.

Gellert starts pouring wine into the glasses, while Henry is making sure that the blinds are closed. Credence is standing at the foot of the bed, not sure what the men are expecting him to do. Should he take his clothes off? Or should he wait because Henry and Gellert want to undress him themselves? Longingly, he starts eyeing the wine. It would take the edge off, he knows, and ease his anxiety.

Gellert hands one of the glasses of to Henry and keeps the second one for himself. They clink glasses.

“Can I have some, too?” Credence asks.

Henry shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. At least not tonight. It wouldn’t mix well with what Gellert managed to get for you.”

“Which is… ?”

Henry cuts him off by cupping Credence’s cheek with one hand for a moment. “It’s a surprise, but I promise you’ll like it.”

Gellert sets down his wine glass on the nightstand. “Honestly, I think we should give it to him now. It’s going to take a while to kick in anyway.” From the nightstand drawer, he produces a small transparent plastic bag with brightly colored pills. “Take your pick, Credence.”

Hesitantly, he reaches out and takes the bag. “What are those?”

“MDMA, and really good one to boot,” Gellert replies, taking another sip of his wine. “You’ll feel amazing. The first time is always the best time, too.”

Credence looks at the pills, and then at Henry and Gellert, who are looking… no staring at him expectantly. “Why do you want me to take it?”

“Because you’re going to feel really good,” Henry huffs. “Jesus, Credence, why do you have to be so difficult? We only want you to have fun. It’s high-quality stuff, Gellert’s got a lot of experience with it, nothing’s going to happen.”

He looks at the pills again. “If it’s going to feel good, why aren’t you taking any, then?”

Gellert raises an eyebrow. “Do you really think Henry would give you anything that’s going to harm you? Don’t you trust him?”

“Yes, I do, but I don’t see why… ”

Gellert takes the bag from Credence’s hands and pats the bed, motioning for Credence to sit down. He does, but only after Henry gives him a nudge in the back. “Sit down, princess, stop giving us trouble.”

“Which color do you want?” Gellert opens the bag, takes one out and holds it up for Credence to see. “Here, it’s pink. Looks pretty, doesn’t it?”

Too intimidated to protest, Credence nods.

“What did Henry call you? Princess? Is that what you like being called in the bedroom?”

“Y-yes,” Credence says, even though it’s a little embarrassing to admit that he likes a pet name Henry uses for his daughters as well.

“Then be a good girl, open wide and swallow, princess,” Gellert says, using a tone of voice that makes Credence feel hot and cold all over.

He glances at Henry, uncertain, but he just gets an annoyed look. “Take the damn pill, Credence.”

Credence closes his eyes, opens his mouth and feels Gellert place the pill on his tongue. ‘Here goes,’ he thinks and swallows it down, feeling uncomfortable the whole time.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Henry says when Credence opens his eyes again.

Both men join him on the bed. With Henry, he feels like he still has some semblance of control over the situation. Now, it’s different, with two men instead of one. Henry alone is already stronger than him, but now that strength advantage doubled… it makes Credence feel small.

Henry’s kisses are familiar, but Gellert is new and Credence’s treacherous brain supplies that he likes kissing Gellert more than Henry. But no, he mustn’t think like that. It’s just the novelty of it all, he’s sure. All the while, he’s weirdly conscious that Henry and Gellert never kiss each other. Their attention is focused on Credence, and it’s disconcerting to feel so watched, so observed… but in a way, it makes him feel appreciated. He likes being the center of attention for once in his life.

Pain explodes across his scalp when Henry roughly fists a hand in his hair and pulls. He gasps, but Henry doesn’t let go after a second or two like he usually would. “Princess, you didn’t think you’d get away with that little stunt, didn’t you? You’re going to get punished for being difficult earlier.”

Credence needs a few seconds to understand that Henry means his initial reluctance to take the MDMA. He wouldn’t consider it a misdemeanor, he was just unsure of whether to… but he usually likes being disciplined by Henry, so… “Am I going to get a spanking, daddy?”

Henry smirks, finally releasing Credence’s hair. “Yes. But I’m not going to be the one to administer it. It was Gellert who went to great lengths to get you the pills and you didn’t want them at first, so he’ll get to spank you.”

Credence turns to look at Gellert, whose eyes have taken on a dark look. His gaze flickers down to Gellert’s hands, large and strong. His fingers still look elegant, though. Like a pianist’s, Credence thinks. The prospect of Gellert being the one to punish him makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Don’t you think that’s fair, princess?” Henry prompts.

Gellert opens a drawer of his dresser and pulls out a tie, licking his lips in anticipation. “Let’s make this more interesting,” he says.

Credence doesn’t have the time to protest; the two men are already tying his wrists together in front of his body. It’s a little tighter than he’s used to. When he complains, Gellert laughs, pats his cheek like one would do with a small child and tells him not to worry about it.

Cheeks burning, Credence doesn’t protest when Henry takes another tie and uses it to blindfold him. He’s been restrained before and blindfolded, too, but not at the same time. At least with the way his hands are bound, he can still get the blindfold off if he tries. It’s still not his favorite feeling in the world.

Henry kisses his neck, his stubble scraping over Credence’s skin. “Let’s show Gellert how you need to be disciplined,” he says. “Here, let me help you.”

The men grab at Credence, maneuvering him into position until he’s draped over Gellert’s lap. He can feel the man kneading his butt through his jeans. “You don’t spank him clothed, do you?” he asks. “That wouldn’t be terribly intimate.”

“Of course not,” Henry snorts. “I wanna see that cute ass turn red.”

One man is pulling the hem of Credence’s T-shirt upwards, the other one is pulling his jeans down until they’re sitting at mid-thigh level, exposing his naked backside. He’s only wearing the garter belt and stockings, Henry hadn’t given him any panties.

Gellert bites back a moan. “You weren’t kidding when you said he’s exquisite,” he says, pulling Credence’s cheeks apart for a second. A sharp inhale of breath, then Credence feels hands smooth over the skin of his scarred back. “What caused those?” Gellert comments so casually as if he were talking about the weather. “Some sort of whip or belt, I assume?”

“A belt. His mother, you know. It’s the reason why he’s living with me and Carol,” Henry replies. There’s the sound of wine being poured into a glass, Henry taking a sip and smacking his lips. “Make no mistake, it fucked him up enough for him to enjoy this.”

‘Don’t talk to me like I’m not there,’ Credence wants to yell, wants to twist away from Gellert’s searching fingers redrawing the patterns of scar tissue on his back like his body is a weird curiosity, something to be gawked at. Hot tears are burning in his eyes. This was supposed to make him feel beautiful and wanted. Now he feels like a freak.

“Oh? You ever punished him with a belt?”

“Please, no,” Credence chokes out. “Don’t use a belt.”

“Skin-to-skin, then,” Henry says. His voice is getting closer until it’s next to Credence’s ear. “Come on, princess, calm down,” he mumbles, running a calming hand up and down Credence’s flank. “Of course we’re not going to use a belt, I wouldn’t do that to you. I know how much your mother hurt you. Gellert is just going to spank you like we usually do when we’re alone. That’s alright, isn’t it?”

Credence nods. “Yes,” he whispers.

“Good,” Henry replies. “See, you’re doing so well. You can’t see yourself, but I promise, you look beautiful, princess.”

Credence relaxes and breathes easier. This is more like what he’s used to, what he wants… not Henry and Gellert talking about him like he’s not there like he can’t hear them.

“How many do you usually… ?” Gellert asks, having returned to running his hands over Credence’s backside, playing with the garters and the garter belt. He likes this, Credence finds, the way the blindfold is amplifying the tactile sensations. Gellert’s palms are more calloused than Henry’s, and for some reason, that thought excites him.

“Ten,” Henry says. “But he disrespected us both, so I’d say he deserves twenty tonight. Credence will count, won’t he?”

“And you, daddy… ?”

“I’ll be enjoying the show,” Henry says with a laugh. Credence hears the characteristic sound of Henry’s belt being unbuckled and he can make a fair guess of what he meant. Before he can respond in any way, pain explodes across his buttocks, making him gasp and rock forward against Gellert’s strong thighs. “O-one,” he stammers a second later when his mind catches up with him.

“That one caught you by surprise, mhmm?” Gellert chuckles. “But you like it, don’t you?”

“I like it,” Credence says. Gellert hits much harder than Henry ever did. If his foster father spanks him, Credence gets off to the situation and the intimacy. The pain is more of an after-thought. Not so with Gellert - pain is the focus for him, Credence can sense that, and it sets his nerves alight with anticipation. His buttocks are still tingling from where Gellert landed his first blow. “I need more,” he whines.

“Henry didn’t lie when he said you were needy. But don’t worry, princess, you’re going to get more,” Gellert says, starting to deliver more blows.

Around eleven or twelve, the pill kicks in and Credence forgets to count, pain, drugs, and arousal making his mind go fuzzy. They start over again at one, but Credence can’t focus, so he loses count again and again.

When the men finally decide that he’s been punished enough and remove the ties restraining and blinding him, Credence’s every nerve feels alight with a pleasant throbbing of the aftershocks of pain. He moans against Henry’s mouth when he smashes their lips together, plundering his mouth.

If being with two men at once made him uneasy and anxious before the drug kicked in, he now can’t get enough of the sensation. ‘Touch-starved’, his brain supplies, and maybe that’s right. After years of being denied, he hungers for connection, for affection…

They lose their clothes, with Gellert insisting that Credence keep on wearing the garters and stockings. Credence grins the whole time, why was he even worried about the evening in the first place? He alternately focuses his attention on Henry and Gellert, clinging to their bodies, needing to touch them.

“Should I prep myself for you, Daddy?” he asks. “I want you closer, I… need you.”

Gellert frowns. “You let him prep himself?” he asks, while Henry is already handing Credence a bottle of lube.

“I don’t want to bother with it, honestly,” Henry says. “It’s… tedious.”

“Really?” Gellert raises an eyebrow, looking from Henry to Credence. “You always had to finger yourself open, princess? Never had someone do the work for you?”

If he were sober, Credence would realize that Henry’s clenched jaw is a sign for him to stop talking, a sure-fire sign that he’s displeased with him. The drugs coursing through his system make him more honest, though, and so it feels like nothing when he bites his lips and tells Gellert, no, he never had anyone prep him for sex.

Gellert barks out a laugh. “Henry, you’ve got this treasure in your bed and you never… I can’t believe it.” He follows it up with something in another language Credence can’t understand. Gellert spreads Credence’s thighs with his hands, looking at his most intimate spots with a hunger that get a moan out of Credence. “Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Credence nods, wide-eyed, all of his thoughts focused on Gellert. It’s strange, the man has got such a presence, he could almost forget that Henry is in the same room with them.

Gellert chuckles and kneels on the floor, on the side of the bed, hoisting Credence’s thighs onto his shoulders.

“I… what… ,” Credence says, not knowing what’s going on.

“Hush, princess,” Gellert says, turning his head to press a kiss to the inside of Credence’s thigh, right above the seam of the stocking. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Credence moans, clutching the sheets with white-knuckled hands when Gellert gets to work. This is going to be his new favorite thing, he decides, gasping and whimpering as he’s coming undone under the attention of Gellert’s wicked mouth.

He pulls back, laughing, and forces his legs apart a little wider. “Ease up there, that feels like you’re crushing me.”

“Sorry,” Credence says, licking his lips.

Gellert smirks at him, wanting to return his attention to where Credence is open and wanting, when…

“Don’t you think that’s enough?” Henry snarls. “We need to get on with it, we haven’t got all night, in case you forgot.”

Gellert gives him an apologetic shrug, reaches for the lube and quickly fingers Credence until he’s open enough, teasing his prostate in ways and with an angle Credence never managed to get with his own fingers. Despite all the attention he’s getting, he has a difficult time getting hard, but Gellert explains that’s a side-effect of the drug, he shouldn’t worry about it. He and Henry are going to take care of him.

And _how…_

Gellert withdraws his fingers, and Henry pushes him aside, insisting that Gellert had his fun with Credence already, now it’s his turn. He’s rougher with Credence than usual, more primal, holding his hips in a vise-like grip. Credence starts worrying there’ll be marks, which he’ll have to hide. “Tell me you like it,” Henry grunts between thrusts. “Tell me how much you like it.”

So Credence assures him he likes it over the sounds of skin slapping on skin, over the feeling of his body stretching to accommodate the intrusion.

Gellert joins them, feeding Credence his cock, and he desperately wants to please him, wants to say thank you for the first rim job he’s gotten in his life. He loses himself in the sensations, too much for him on a normal, sober night, but now it’s not enough, never enough and he keeps begging for more, even though he knows that he’ll hardly be able to sit tomorrow.

When both men are satisfied, Credence still whines for more, he needs touch, needs…

Henry seems a little annoyed with him and tells him not to be difficult, or has he already forgotten about the spanking from earlier?

Credence shakes his head, trying to be good, trying to tell himself that it’s okay.

Gellert laughs, kisses the corner of his mouth. He’s sorry, but they’ll have to clean themselves up and go home, they can’t stay the night. “People would ask questions,” he says. “Believe me, I’d rather keep you around, too.”

They wash up in a daze, with Credence leaving the stained and sweaty lingerie at Gellert’s place.

“Can we do that again?” Credence asks Henry when they’re in the car. “I really liked it.”

Henry doesn’t look at him, just keeps his eyes on the road. He’s going much too fast, his grip on the steering wheel is so tight his knuckles have turned white. “I don’t doubt it,” he mutters.

He’s still high, and the leather of the car seats feels amazing, he can’t stop touching it. Credence fiddles with the radio, scanning through a few stations. Henry bats his hand away from the radio. “The music’s giving me a fucking headache,” he says, turning the radio off.

Credence thinks about protesting, but the glint in Henry’s eyes is enough to make him reconsider. He drops his hands in his lap, starting to tear off tiny pieces of skin of his cuticles. The atmosphere, it’s all wrong. Credence is scared to say the wrong thing or move in a way Henry doesn’t like… his cuticles are bleeding, and he can hear the echo of Ma’s voice in his head, telling him it’s a disgusting habit.

Ma.

Being in the car with Henry right now feels exactly like being back under Ma’s roof. Credence flinches. He looks at Henry and back to his fingers - when did things become this way? Why didn’t he notice it before, it had always been fine before. Hadn’t it?

No.

It’s the drugs.

They’re messing with his head, making Henry appear angry and controlling like Ma used to be.

He needs to learn not to project the past onto the present - his therapist had said something to that effect when Credence had told her that he had the impression Henry didn’t like him. It’s just the drugs. Credence _knows_ Henry likes him.

He wraps his arms around himself.

It’s just the drugs Gellert gave him.

It’s going to pass.

Henry takes another wrong turn, not driving them home, but to a dirt road that leads to a small forest.

“What are you… ?” Credence asks, but Henry holds up a hand to silence him.

“Not now.”

He waits, getting more and more anxious the farther they get away from the main road.

Henry stops the car, finally, and Credence lets out a relieved breath before the fear comes back with full force. What does Henry want to do in the middle of the woods?

His foster father unbuckles both of their seatbelts and looks at Credence with an intensity in his gaze that makes him feel small and vulnerable. “I’m going to ask you a few questions and you’ll answer,” Henry says. “Understood?”

Confused, Credence nods.

“What we did today… did you like it?”

Credence thinks back, how he was afraid of Gellert at first, but how it had turned out alright. “Yeah, I did,” he answers.

“And did you like it when Gellert spanked you? When he fucked you?” Henry asks, voice rough and hands going to his fly.

Oh, Credence thinks, so this is what it’s all about. If it’s some game they’re playing, then he’ll play along.

“I liked it a lot,” he says, licking his lips. “I loved it when he rimmed me, why did we never do that before?”

Henry gives him a dark look and Credence knows he made a grave mistake.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammers, looking around. They’re alone, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. It’s only him and Henry. Nobody else. Nobody to hear him scream if it came to that.

Henry grabs a fistful of Credence’s hair and pulls until it hurts for real. Credence lets out a whine of pain.

“Let me make one thing very clear,” Henry hisses, pulling on his hair again for emphasis. “You’re _mine_ . Sharing you with Gellert was a gift for _him_ , not for you, and you shouldn’t get any ideas. It won’t happen again, no matter how much you might want it. You only belong to me, to no one else, is that clear?”

His vision blurring with tears, Credence nods, desperate to get this nightmare to end. Why is Henry reacting like that? The threesome had been his idea in the first place…

Credence doesn’t dare protest when Henry makes him take his clothes off and ride him. He usually likes this, it makes him feel powerful and wanted but now? With Henry directing his every move, panting and grunting into Credence’s ear that he’s his, that he needs to remember his place, it makes him feel filthy and taken advantage of.

The worst part is that he still likes it to a certain extent. _Isn’t that what you wanted,_ a voice inside his head whispers. _You wanted him to fuck you and now you can’t deal with it? Pathetic._

“Slut,” Henry growls. “You’re just a little slut, aren’t you, but remember that you’re mine. Say it.”

Credence doesn’t know what he means if he’s supposed to call himself a slut or… “I’m yours, Daddy,” he tries, and it seems to be the right answer.

Henry bites him in the shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark and Credence starts wondering how he’s going to hide it tomorrow. Groaning, Henry comes but doesn’t allow Credence to move off his lap.

“Never forget who you belong to, princess,” Henry says, searching Credence’s face for… what?

The slap comes out of nowhere. Tasting the blood in his mouth, Credence knows he can’t blame this on the drugs anymore. It’s not a bad trip, messing with his perception. He’s frightened.

“Don’t forget who you belong to,” Henry snarls. “Say it.”

Fighting the tears in his eyes, Credence whispers: “I belong to you, daddy. Only to you.”

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: [@almost-annette](https://almost-annette.tumblr.com/)


End file.
